The strangers mansion
1460 Words
When I woke up, I had absolutely no clue where I was.
For a second, all I could make out were these weird, shifting shadows dancing across the ceiling—big windows, sunlight trying to sneak past these gauzy curtains, and this low humming noise in the background, kind of like waves. My hand slid over the sheets, silk, cool as hell. Way too nice for me.
And then—bam—everything came flooding back.
The party.
Dad yelling.
That word. The one I didn’t get to keep.
I shot upright, heart trying to beat its way out of my chest.
This room—honestly, it looked too fancy to be a hospital, and way too unfamiliar for some random hotel. Creamy walls, a chandelier throwing sparkles everywhere, and a fancy vase of lilies by the window. Even the air smelled expensive, laced with sea salt.
I went to swing my legs off the bed—and just froze. Someone had changed my clothes. Instead of my destroyed dress from last night, I was in this soft white shirt and loose cotton pants. My brain short-circuited for a second.
Where the hell was I? Who touched me while I was out?
Before I could spiral into full-blown panic, I heard a voice, quiet and calm, from the doorway.
“You’re safe, Miss Blake.”
I whipped around.
Ethan stood leaning against the doorframe, all relaxed like he did this sort of thing every day. Black shirt, sleeves rolled up, looking infuriatingly unbothered for a guy who’d just—kidn*pped? Rescued? Not sure yet.
“How did I get here?” My throat sounded raw, like I’d swallowed gravel.
“You fell asleep in the car,” he said, like that explained anything. “We got here late. I let you sleep.”
“Where is here?”
He paused—just a beat too long. “My place.”
I blinked. “Your place?”
He nodded. “Remote. Private. Safe, for now. At least until I can set up a meeting with… certain people.”
“Certain people?” I repeated, not loving the sound of that. “You mean the Kingsleys? You called me that last night. Why?”
His face didn’t budge. “Because it’s your real name.”
I just stared. “That’s ridiculous. My name is—” I stopped. The name felt wrong suddenly, like trying on someone else’s shoes. “You’re lying.”
He stepped forward, slow, like I might bolt. “Do you remember a gold locket from your childhood?”
My stomach did a weird flip. “Yeah,” I said, barely audible. “It’s literally the only thing I had before the Hemsworths. They told me I was found with it.”
Ethan nodded. “There’s an engraving inside. ‘For A.K.’ Ever wonder what that meant?”
I shook my head, my mouth dry.
“Ariana Kingsley,” he said, voice soft.
I let out something between a laugh and a cough, brittle as glass. “So I’m, what, royalty now? Is that where we’re going with this?”
He almost smiled—almost—but his voice stayed dead serious. “Not royalty. But someone very important has been searching for. People who thought you were gone.”
I took a shaky step back. “This is nuts. The Hemsworths might be cold, but they wouldn’t fake… all of this.”
He cut in, gentle but sharp. “Wouldn’t they? Their whole empire’s built on lies, Miss Blake. You were just one of them.”
I dropped onto the bed, legs suddenly useless. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. My brain started flipping through old memories—Lydia brushing my hair, Nathan’s fake smile in family photos, that weird, chilly wall between us that never made sense.
Had they just been pretending the whole time?
Ethan stayed put, a few feet away, not pushing. “I get how insane this sounds. But your actual parents—the Kingsleys—never stopped looking.”
My chest hurt. “They’re alive?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“And what, they sent you to fetch me? Like I’m a missing suitcase or something?”
He let out a breath. “They didn’t want it to happen like this. But yeah, they’ve been waiting for you to be ready.”
I wanted to scream. Or throw something. Or maybe just disappear. Instead, I whispered, “You could be anyone, you know. A liar. Some creep.”
“If I meant you harm,” he said, voice steady, “I wouldn’t have brought you here. And I definitely wouldn’t have spent the whole night outside your door making sure nothing happened to you.”
That last sentence just… shut me up.
He looked away, kind of like he wished he could swallow his words back down. “There’s food in the kitchen. Take your time. Rest. I’ll call someone from the Kingsley household when you’re ready to meet them.”
He started to leave, but I couldn’t help myself. “Wait!”
He paused in the doorway.
“Why are you helping me?”
He didn’t turn around. Just stood there, stiff. “Because someone has to.”
And then—he was gone.
—
It took me half an hour to find the kitchen. I was wandering barefoot, brain foggy as hell. Mansion? Fortress? No clue what to call this place. It sat up on a hill with the kind of ocean view you see on postcards. Through these huge glass walls, waves smashed against the rocks—white foam sparkling under a sky that couldn’t decide if it wanted to rain or not.
The kitchen was all warm wood and steel and way, way too quiet. I made coffee, but my hands shook so bad I barely managed not to drop the mug.
Couldn’t get Ethan’s words out of my head. My brain kept glitching.
The Kingsleys.
My real name.
People thought I was dead.
And Ethan. Calm, disciplined, impossible to read—not that I wasn’t trying.
Seriously, who the hell was this guy?
I didn’t even hear him come in. Suddenly, he was just… there. Leaning against the counter with a file. “You shouldn’t wander around without shoes,” he said, all annoyingly casual.
I shot him a look. “You shouldn’t kidnap people.”
He almost smiled. Almost. “Fair point.”
“What’s that?” I asked, nodding at the folder.
“Proof.” He slid it over.
I hesitated, then flipped it open. Papers. Photos. Newspaper clippings. One picture hit me like a punch: a tiny version of me, maybe two, grinning in a woman’s lap. Her eyes—my eyes. I’d seen them every day in my own face.
The caption? Kingsley Heiress Missing — Family Offers Reward.
I stared until the letters went all swimmy. “This can’t be real,” I whispered.
“It is,” Ethan said, quietly. “That woman’s Eleanor Kingsley. Your mother.”
My fingers touched the photo. Something inside me—something old and bruised and hidden—shifted.
“She’s been looking for you since the day you vanished,” he went on. “All of them have.”
I looked up. “Who took me?”
His face changed. Dark. “That’s what we’re going to find out.”
The way he said it gave me chills.
Before I could say anything else, his phone rang. He checked who it was, then looked back at me, softer. “They’re ready to talk to you.”
“They?”
He nodded. “Your parents.”
My heart went nuts. “Now?”
“They’ve waited twenty-one years, Ariana. I think they can handle a couple more minutes.”
I tried to breathe like a normal person. Didn’t really work. “I just… I need a second.”
“Take all the time you want,” he said. “When you’re ready, I’ll be outside.”
He left, and I was alone with the open file.
I traced the photo again. The woman’s gentle smile. The little kid in her lap. Something inside me hurt. Not grief—not yet. Something closer to longing.
Was it possible? Was my whole life one big lie? Were the people who raised me actually the bad guys?
I looked out the window at the ocean, endless and gray. Somewhere out there was a world I used to belong to—a world I didn’t remember at all.
And for the first time since this whole nightmare started, I felt something flicker inside me.
Not peace. Not even acceptance.
But maybe—just maybe—a tiny spark of hope.
- Writer
